At 10:15 PM, Camille was a battlefield of chaos and poetry. Armed with flushed cheeks, unsteady heels, and far too much alcohol, she wobbled down the corridor outside the hall, trying to recite Shakespeare - or was it some indie poet she read once in high school?

“...the moon weeps for the strawberries. No. Wait...the moon doesn’t even have fruit!” she proclaimed, blinking as if she’d just unlocked a philosophical truth.

Mira, half-carrying her, half-dying inside, hissed, “Okay, Sylvia Plath, time to go.” One arm around Camille, the other furiously texting.

Mira: Are you still at the venue? Help. Camille’s a mess.

Two minutes later, Noah emerged from the side hall, still in his black orchestra blazer, violin case slung across his shoulder. His eyes scanned, spotted Mira, and without a word, took Camille’s bag from her.

“She’s quoting fruit,” Mira muttered.

“I noticed,” Noah replied dryly. He slid an arm under Camille’s other side. Together, they began the slow, dignified evacuation of the redheaded disaster.

Meanwhile, inside... A loud, stumbling student nearly backed into Naomi, who flinched instinctively.

Elias noticed immediately. He gently moved between her and the noise.

“Want to leave early?”

Naomi looked up, relieved. “Please.”

Elias guided her out, his presence shielding her from the chaos. On the other side of the dance floor, Luca was thriving. Or so he thought. He was slurring English and Japanese in equal measure, hip-thrusting to the beat, dramatically flinging an arm out to challenge someone to karaoke.

“Ore wa... superstar da!”

“Luca,” Elara said patiently, catching him mid-spin before he hit someone. “No more mixing sake metaphors with ABBA.”

Still poised, still somehow the picture of grace, she half-dragged, half-pulled him toward a corner before he publicly attempted to reenact The Lion King.

Just then, Vincent appeared beside her, eyes wide with amusement.

“Help me,” Elara said dryly, looping Luca’s other arm around Vincent’s shoulder.

Together, the unlikely trio steered Luca toward the dorms, his karaoke ambitions left mercifully unrealized.

10:30 PM. The ballroom had calmed. The lighting was softer now, music turned down, the crowd thinning into cozy conversations and slow dances. A few stragglers laughed over shared drinks, others napped with party hats tilted sideways. Mira, now changed into flats, slumped onto the fountain’s edge just outside and let out a long, cathartic sigh. The chill of the night settled around her shoulders, but she didn’t mind. The worst had passed.

Inside, Seraphina stood at the edge of the dance floor, still regal in her glittering dress. She wasn’t looking for anyone in particular, or so she told herself. She knew Adrian wasn’t coming. And yet, some small, foolish part of her had still waited, still imagined the moment he’d appear in the doorway with that unreadable expression, as if he had just stepped out of a dream. But dreams didn’t come to parties, and Adrian didn’t come for her.

❧

As Mira trudged back toward the dorms, Camille’s fuzzy slippers flopped awkwardly with every step, two sizes too big and completely unsuited for the slippery tiles. She clutched both pairs of their high heels in one hand, the straps tangled like bad decisions. Her hair was already starting to frizz.

“How did I let this happen? Should’ve burned these heels the minute I bought them. Or better, never touched them in the first place.”

A cold plop landed on her cheek. She paused, then looked up.

Another drop. Then another.

“Oh no. No no no!”

The rain broke open in a sudden fury, slanting sideways with wind, slicing the air like thrown needles. Mira bolted from the stone path, slippers slapping uselessly beneath her. The heels in her hand clinked with each step, their silver straps tangled in her grip like jewellery gone rogue. A strand of silver hair stuck to her cheek. Her dress clung to her ribs, her legs were streaked with droplets. Her bare shoulders broke out in goosebumps. She clutched the shoes to her chest and let out a bitter exhale.

“Perfect,” she muttered, jaw tight. “Absolutely perfect.”

At least Camille was tucked in. At least no one had vomited on her. Ahead, someone else walked with an umbrella beneath a dome of black. She passed him without thinking, the air split by her hurried steps. Only when she reached the elevator at the dormitory entrance did she glance back. The man was walking toward her, the umbrella tilting just enough to shield his gold eyes from the hallway light. Mira’s hand hovered over the elevator panel. The door had just opened. She hesitated, then pressed the button to hold it.

He stepped inside and closed the umbrella. Mira caught their reflection in the mirror panel: him, calm and composed in his usual dark sweater, hair barely touched by the rain. And her…a glitter-smeared, shivering mess in a damp party dress and mismatched footwear. She tried to stand still, to not let her teeth chatter too loudly, to keep her heels from squeaking against the tile. Her arms crossed tight over her chest. She must look ridiculous. In a party dress. Slippers. Carrying shoes like a gremlin. And standing next to Adrian Vale. This was way too hilarious.

“Never mind,” she thought. “He won’t pay attention. He probably didn’t even notice. He’s not the type to care.”

Ding.

The elevator stopped. As the doors opened, Adrian stepped out first, then waited just a step ahead. Mira walked out quickly after him, clutching her heels tighter.

“…Night,” he glanced back briefly when both reached their doors, voice barely a breath.

She blinked in surprise, then nodded instinctively. “Night.”

And just like that, he disappeared into his room.

As soon as Mira closed her door, she dropped the useless heels by the entry and peeled off Camille’s floppy slippers. The dorm was dark and peaceful - blessedly so. Not only had she walked through the rain in what looked like a disaster cosplay of Cinderella and a drowned cat, but she also stood next to Adrian Vale, the university legend.

Why couldn’t she have just disappeared into the night like a normal person?

Mira groaned, dragging herself toward the bathroom.

❧